


Portraits of a Family (of Bats)

by LeGacyOfSpaces (TheBeatersBlack)



Series: Gathered Pieces [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily Feels, Brothers, Gen, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:46:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeatersBlack/pseuds/LeGacyOfSpaces
Summary: Collection of Gen Batfam works (drabbles and seeds)--BECAUSE I WILL NOT BE STOPPED.Ahem.Please enjoy.





	Portraits of a Family (of Bats)

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you'd like any of these to be expanded (I might just!)

 

**Reasons**

**(Damian & Tim)**

 

         Damian was fighting fiercely against the hot prick behind his eyes.  “And why should I bother?  Why should I waste my time trying to make them understand when they never will?”

         Drake shrugged.  “Because you’re Damian Wayne.”  He turned, knocking their shoulders together as he went.  Before he reached the door, he turned and sent a look back over his shoulder.  “Not a single member of this family is as willful and obstinate as you—not even the cow.  Stop  _ trying _ to make them understand and just— _ make them _ .”  

And then like a COWARD, Drake slipped out of the room without even a rustle.

         “You look particularly feminine in those trousers, Drake!” Damian called after him.  The man's laugh echoed through the hall long after he was gone.

 

 

 

**Powers**

**(Alfred & Tim)**

 

         “Jesus Chris, Talia—how many of Gotham’s finest have you dipped your wick into?”

         “Wouldn’t they have dipped their wicks into her?” Tim asked, not even looking up from the computer.  A moment of silence dragged past before he glanced up, eyes panicked. “Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

         “Go to sleep, Detective,” Ra’s said.

         Tim scowled.  “You’re not the boss of me.”

         “Go to sleep, Master Timothy.”  Alfred plucked up his half-empty mug and fixed him with a stare.  Tim wilted under it.

         “Fine,” he mumbled, attempting to pack up his computer.  Alfred laid a hand on top of the closed cover, barely exuding any pressure, but Tim abandoned it all the same.  He cast one last, forlorn look over his shoulder before disappearing up the stairs.

         “Do you have powers?” Bart asked through a mouthful of bread.

         “He raised Batman,” Dick whispered.  The Speedster’s eyes went wide. 

 

**An Orphan Like Them**

**(the Robins)**

 

         “You know,” said Dick, the words coming unbidden to his tongue.  “Damian’s the only Robin who hasn’t lost their parents.” 

He kept his next thought to himself, but looking across at his brothers, caught the instant it flashed across Tim’s face before going smooth, the slight tensing of Jay’s shoulders, accompanied by a too-casual sip from his beer.

         Damian nodded.  “Yes.” Like it was just another bit of data.  Like it wasn’t a truth that pressed the weight of the world onto his shoulders, or perhaps lifted it.  Without his realizing, he had just confirmed Dick’s second thought.

_          Would he be as broken if he were an orphan like them? _

__

 

**Is it a gift?  (IS IT?)**

**(Commissioner Gordon & Jason)**

 

                “Evening, Comish!”

                Gordon could actually _feel_ his blood pressure rise. 

                “Hood.  I don’t suppose you’re just stopping by to say hello?”

                “Nah, I’ve got a present for you!”

                “It better be better than your last ‘present.’”  Visions of gang bangers wrapped up in Christmas lights played through Gordon’s head.  It had been the programmed light show that really did it.  “I’ve told you—I’ve got enough paperwork as it is, I don’t need to spend my off hours submitting a Hood Report to the Bat.”

                “I gotta keep raising the bar,” said the former drug lord.  “Anything to keep you happy.”

                “Your efforts are appreciated—but do me a favor and direct some of that boundless creativity into not baiting Robin to chase you across rooftops.  I get panicked calls from old ladies every single time.”

                “I’m feeling like the unloved child.”  Somehow the man managed to pout _through the helmet._   It was all in the way his shoulders slumped.

                “Oh, I vastly prefer you to Robin.”

                There was a pause. 

                “Oh shit,” Jim said in realization.

                “You hear that, brat?”  Hood crowed.  An inarticulate snarl came audibly through the helmet’s comm. 

                Gordon sighed.  “I hate every single one of you, and that’s the gods-honest truth.”

                There was a brief crackle of static that he _knew_ was intentional.  "You walked right into that one, Dad."

 

          

 

 


End file.
